


Cocksucker

by silentdescant



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard feels like the breath has been kicked out of him. He stares down at Frank’s pink, wet lips and his hollowed cheeks as he goes down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cocksucker

There’s a joint going around that Gerard passes on in favor of another Xanax or two, so the room smells like pot. Frank’s getting seriously wasted on the opposite end of the couch; he’s giggling now, like everything’s a joke, but the guy sitting in between them—Gerard doesn’t know him; maybe he’s one of the techs?—has reached that mellow stage and he’s absently stroking his thigh. It’s distracting, because his elbow keeps hitting Gerard’s arm.

Gerard leans forward and grabs one of the fuller beer bottles off the coffee table. He lost track of which one was his ages ago, and by this point nobody really cares. He takes a long swig, and then another, and then the bottle’s depressingly empty. He sets it down again.

When he leans back on the couch, Frank is half in the guy’s lap, kissing him like it’s as necessary as air. Gerard stops. He just stops. And stares.

Frank’s leg inches over the guy’s lap—Joe, Gerard thinks that’s his name, or possibly Jim—until it’s wedged between Joe’s thigh and Gerard’s, and Gerard knows that Frank has bony knees, he knew that, but it’s different to feel it like this.

Gerard can’t stop staring at Frank’s mouth. And Joe’s mouth, because they’re glued together. Frank is straddling Joe’s lap and Joe’s hands are sliding down Frank’s back and grabbing his ass, and Frank is just moving with it, rocking his hips a little, holding on really tight to Joe’s collar, and Gerard cannot fucking look away.

Mikey’s laugh finally distracts him enough to glance around the hazy room. There’s a girl nestled against Mikey’s left side, idly stroking his stomach, and Ray’s sitting on Mikey’s right, and there’s a handful of other people Gerard sort-of knows sprawled across the floor and stuffed into the oversized armchair.

Nobody else seems to notice or care that Frank and Joe are practically dry-humping each other. There are about three lazy conversations going on, and Gerard tries hard to tune into at least one. He focuses on Ray’s voice and not the wet sounds of Frank’s lips right next to him.

Ray’s talking about music, of course, but he keeps losing his train of thought. Gerard leans forward again—away from Frank and those sounds and that heat—and interrupts, trying to speed Ray’s wandering sentence along. Ray waves his hands gratefully, letting Gerard take over for a moment, and paws through the bottles on the coffee table in search of one with something left inside.

“Heh, nice, Frankie,” he says as he finally picks a bottle out of the pile. Gerard can’t help but glance to his right.

Frank’s spine is arched and he’s leaning back over the guy’s knees, and Joe has one hand wrapped firmly around him to keep him up, and Frank is shamelessly rutting against Joe’s obvious hard-on, gasping at the ceiling.

Mikey chuckles and says something that Gerard doesn’t pay attention to. He’s probably teasing Frank, or maybe egging him on, but it doesn’t really matter. Frank isn’t listening either.

Frank arches back again, thrusting his hips up, his back bowed gracefully out over thin air, and for a second, Gerard is absolutely sure that he’s going to fall and crack his head open on the fucking coffee table. He’s so sure that he lurches forward and grabs Frank’s shoulder to keep him upright.

Frank turns his head and catches Gerard’s eye with a dazed expression. “What?”

“You were…” Gerard explains uselessly. He wants to say _falling_ , but Frank isn’t, Frank wasn’t, Frank’s too fucking flexible to just fall over backwards like that.

Frank seems to take that as answer enough. He slides easily out of Gerard’s grip and out of Joe’s lap and settles on the floor. On his knees, crowded between Joe’s legs and the sharp edge of the coffee table, and staring hungrily at the bulge in Joe’s tight jeans.

Gerard’s eyes zero in on Frank’s hands as they creep up Joe’s thighs and start to unbutton his jeans. Joe isn’t wearing underwear—which pleases Frank, if the low moan of satisfaction is any indication—and Frank jacks his hand slowly up and down Joe’s exposed cock a few times before leaning in and closing his lips over the head.

Gerard feels like the breath has been kicked out of him. He stares down at Frank’s pink, wet lips and his hollowed cheeks as he goes down, he stares at the round tip of Frank’s nose as it nestles in Joe’s dark, curly pubic hair, he stares at Frank’s nimble fingers as he wraps them around the base of Joe’s cock.

Joe seems to come out of his daze then. He jerks his hips up into Frank’s mouth and Frank just rides it out, takes him down farther after. Joe strokes his hands along his own thighs and up the sides of Frank’s face and curls his fingers into Frank’s tangled hair. His elbow pokes Gerard again and this time Gerard doesn’t even care.

Gerard watches those fingers tighten, push Frank down and pull him up, and Frank lets go of Joe’s dick and splays both hands on the tops of Joe’s thighs, just fucking _taking_ it. Joe rocks his hips up and his elbow bangs into Gerard again, and Frank moans, his eyelids sliding closed and expression relaxed. Apparently Frank is the type of guy who finds some kind of zen in cocksucking.

Joe’s hands drag Frank off after another few thrusts and Frank gasps in a deep breath, saliva stringing from the head of Joe’s cock to Frank’s swollen lower lip. His cheeks are flushed and it takes him a second to open his eyes. He catches Gerard’s gaze when he does and smiles lazily.

“Jesus Christ,” Gerard breathes, just as Joe guides Frank down again. Frank goes easily, sliding his lips all the way down to the base, and just stays there, lets Joe fuck his throat.

Gerard stands up abruptly.

The conversation going on across the coffee table falls silent as Mikey and Ray both look up at him with concern. The others scattered around the room don’t even notice, and they keep talking and laughing and smoking like Frank isn’t on his fucking knees for this guy he hardly even knows right there in the same room.

“Bathroom,” Gerard mumbles as an excuse. He risks one more glance down at Frank, at the top of his scraggly-haired head bobbing up and down in Joe’s lap, and makes a break for it.

The bathroom is blessedly empty when Gerard finds it. He flicks on the florescent lights, closes the door, and leans heavily on the sink. His reflection stares back at him, wide-eyed and sallow-skinned. The porcelain feels hot and slick under his fingers, and it takes Gerard a moment to realize how sweaty his palms had become. He wipes them quickly on his jeans.

Gerard takes a few deep breaths. He weighs the pros and cons of jerking off; on the one hand, he’s completely alone for the first time in days, but on the other hand, wrapping a hand around his aching dick would be admitting that watching his best friend suck cock turned him on in a big way. He wipes his hands on his thighs again.

In the time it takes Gerard to come to a decision—one hands is on the fly of his jeans, the other already digging into the tight waistband—the bathroom door opens and Frank slips in, closing it again behind him. He locks it, too. Gerard mentally smacks himself for not doing the same a few minutes ago.

Gerard takes an automatic step back, both hands still caught in his pants. Frank’s lips are shiny and curled into a smirk, and his eyes are half-lidded and focused as best they can be on Gerard.

“Did that get you hard, Gee?” Frank asks knowingly.

Gerard doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t move his hands. He’s sure his erection is painfully obvious, but he thinks moving would only draw more attention to it. He glances down and sees that Frank is in much the same condition, which is actually somewhat comforting

“Did watching me get you hard?” Frank asks again. He sounds smug. He licks his lips and advances slowly.

Gerard manages to get his hands untangled from his stupidly tight jeans by the time Frank steps into his personal space. He feels the hard line of Frank’s cock against his thigh and his own is pressing into Frank’s hip. Frank reaches up with both hands and tangles his fingers in Gerard’s hair, yanking him in for a sloppy kiss.

Frank pushes his tongue between Gerard’s slack lips and moans softly. After a few seconds, they part and Gerard licks his lips. Frank tasted… Gerard stares at him and asks, “Did you swallow?”

Frank’s grin widens. “‘course I did.”

“You don’t do things halfway,” Gerard replies, rolling his eyes. Frank rocks his hips against Gerard’s thigh and shakes his head.

“I’m so fucking hard, Gee,” he says. “Want you to get me off.”

Gerard drops to his knees.

Frank moans loudly, the sound echoing around the small, tiled bathroom. Gerard shuffles Frank back so he’s leaning against the sink and yanks the sides of Frank’s fly apart, dragging his jeans down to his thighs in the same motion. Frank chokes out a gasp as soon as the chilly air hits his cock.

Gerard doesn’t waste time; he grabs the base of Frank’s cock in one hand and pulls him into his mouth. Frank reaches back and clutches at the edge of the porcelain sink, and Gerard is completely prepared for the instinctive thrust of Frank’s hips.

“Jesus, Jesus, Gerard, fucking hell,” Frank groans. His free hand twists in the hair at the crown of Gerard’s head but he doesn’t pull, just holds on tight, like Gerard would fucking leave him like that.

But Gerard does pull off after a while, jacking Frank with his hand, and he looks up at the underside of Frank’s chin. “Whaddya want?”

Gerard suddenly has a lapful of hot, sweaty Frank. He leans back immediately, so Frank won’t brain himself on the fucking sink, and Frank leans with him, and then Frank’s on top of him and they’re lying on the grimy bathroom floor, kissing fiercely. Gerard’s hand is still wrapped around Frank’s dick.

Through the fog of the drugs and the alcohol and the sudden kissing, Gerard finally gets it together enough to resume stroking Frank. Frank’s hands scramble down between their bodies and rip apart the buttons on Gerard’s jeans.

“Just fucking get me off, Gee, want to touch you,” Frank gasps against Gerard’s lips. He forces his hand into Gerard’s pants and gropes around in the tangle of fabric for a moment before breaking the kiss and sitting up. “Get your fucking pants off, Gerard.”

Frank helps him yank the denim and silk boxers down to his knees, and for a second he looks like he desperately wants to go down on Gerard— _Jesus_ , that hungry look on his face is going to fuel Gerard’s fantasies for years—but he settles for curling his hand around him, and Gerard reaches for Frank to do the same, and then— _finally_ —they’re kissing again, and Frank is panting into Gerard’s mouth.

Gerard comes embarrassingly quickly a few moments later. Frank catches most of it in his hand and on the bottom of his t-shirt, and then he sits up again, stretching one arm out above and behind him until he can grab the sink again. Gerard twists his fist around Frank’s cock, loving the way Frank rocks his hips and arches his back into the motion. It reminds Gerard of those guys that ride a mechanical bull; Frank would be good at that, he thinks.

Then Frank lifts his other hand to his lips and licks Gerard’s come off his palm, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth, and if Gerard hadn’t just come a second ago, he would have right then.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps, and Frank turns his wicked grin down on Gerard again. “You are so fucking _hot_ , Frank.”

Frank drops his hand and touches Gerard’s wrist, and his fingers are still wet with his spit. Frank doesn’t guide him or try to change the pace, and it’s really a surprisingly gentle touch, but Gerard speeds up his hand anyway. He tightens his fingers on the upstroke, adding in a slight twist at the end, and it only takes Frank a few strokes more to come all over Gerard’s belly.

Gerard plants his feet on the floor and raises his knees, and Frank leans back against them gratefully, panting and flushed with exertion.

“Fucking needed that,” he says.

“Me too,” Gerard agrees. He takes in Frank’s disheveled hair and his heaving chest, and the splatters of come on the bottom of his shirt and Gerard’s own. “Everyone’s gonna know what we just did.”

Frank slowly shifts his center of gravity, pushing off from Gerard’s knees, and falls on top of Gerard, catching himself with his hands on the floor on either side of Gerard’s head. “You think I care about that?”

Gerard remembers Frank’s dazed, needy look out in the main room and shakes his head.

“You should’a stayed out there,” Frank continues. “Would’ve blown you then.”

Gerard reaches up and wraps his arms around Frank’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. “Think I’d rather be in here,” he admits, “with just us. Me and you. You okay with that?”

Frank leans back enough for Gerard to see his face, see his wide, happy smile, and says, “Fuck, yeah, just us.”

 _fin_.


End file.
